Sin
by Dontmezwitme
Summary: Warning: This is obscure and doesn't have any actual characters in it, listed by name. Rated T for dark themes. Not for those who are only here for yaoi smut.


**A fancy that took me in the middle of homework-I shall fail ninth grade because of you, FFnet. I tapped this off late at night. I apologize in advance for any grammatical, spelling, continuity or other such mistakes.  


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Nations they were, one and all, with the delicate bones of tentative governments in their structure and the blood of the earth lacing their bodies. Man raised his feeble head and lowered it, earth-their blood, their skin- being torn open for his food.

Young, but devoid of thought. Young, but ceasing to love or hate.

Then the Raven came; first, cackling and cawing, crowing its story for ages to come, of gluttony. Of the excess, and their eyes shone and they reached for the black feathers arching in the sky (black on black, a most auspicious symbol, they thought.)

Greed twisted and turned, born of that Raven. Hands reached for things they wanted; the weaker ones were left to die for no one cared.

The weak cried and cursed the stronger; slivers of Envy stuck in their chest as if the heart would stop for the lack of the food. Crying out, they hit and punched, a new emotion surging out of their minds:

Wrath formed in a red haze and they tried yet again, but failed.

Hubris dripped, golden and sticky and slimy, onto the heads of those who were still alive. They crowed with the Raven and drew bright flashing swords.

And after most of the rebels were dead, they lounged and ate off a silver shining platter with nothing but the Raven keeping them company.

So they lusted, after the others, and gave themselves to lusting, and those lands grew wasteful and the Raven screeched through a nasal beak throughout, never ceasing, ever triumphant.

Darkness and evils and vices fell across those Nations once born and their blood grew diseased and bones cracking and hair falling out, with their skin torn open in worse ways then before and salt rubbed into their wounds, but still reveling in their sins and dying; Youngling Nations dying and in pain but could not help the situation.

Come, God, they caroused, they coveted, they spoiled; shalt thou do nothing to help thy peoples? Asked fair Dove of Green, voice cracking and head bent.

They shalt figure out their virtues for themselves, said God; he shook his head.

I cannot interfere, Dove, for I created them and I cannot do anything. He held out his hands, hands that had lovingly shaped Man and his peoples and the birds of the air and the fish of the sea and the creatures of the land. Tears spilled down his cheeks.

Dove turned and flew to World, its feathers bleaching and green retreating, where Nation after Nation started to die. They could not be roused from their beds and they could not face the reality of Death creeping through their doorways and laying a cold, skeletal hand on their mouth-No, they could not believe it, if they wished to stay sane.

Dove came and went, from house to house, and gave them a feather; the feather became a flower because Dove was white as snow, they named it 'Snowdrop' and felt the strangest sensation-

Hope trickled, silver and fine, through the strident calls of the Raven-

And they clasped the stem, one and all, and gently felt the silken petals with green splashes of color as if the first nature of the Dove shone through like its pure heart.

Slowly their cracked bones and ripped flesh and blood of the earth renewed and healed; Dove worked tirelessly.

Still holding that first symbol of hope, tottering to the door, looking into the sky and seeing the stars with new eyes, eyes that had not been this clear for who knows how long-

They gathered in a ring around Dove, and God came.

Doth thou pledge to never sinketh thy minds into wasteful vices and sins? He asked.

We will try our best, they promised. They pledged faithfully that they would never sink as low as they had when the Raven reigned supreme. A single iris bloomed in the grass at their feet.

But, dear fair Dove, it gave itself for the final sacrifice to make them understand fully. And the Raven plummeted out of the sky, blotting out the stars, and plunged its beak into Dove's breast;

Blood splattered out and marked the ground, red on the soil, the blood of the earth.

They learned that most powerful emotion as they mourned over this Dove, the Dove who gave life and meaning and kindness and hope;

Love.

Remember the roses.


End file.
